Uncharted: Natalie's Adventure
by BlackRoseKai
Summary: Natalie Drake is the daughter of Nathan and Elena Drake. Like her father, she is a treasure hunter. After spending her whole life treasure hunting her parents decide it time to settle. But, like her father, Natalie just can't stay out of trouble.
1. Chapter 1: The Child of Drake

**This is my first Uncharted story and it takes place after all three games are over! I hope everyone likes!**

**ALL reviews are greatly appreciated!**

_Oh god, here it comes_, I thought as the girl walked up to me. _She's about to ask me a million questions and I'm going to have to dodge them all or lie. Great. Okay, don't freak out Natalie. Just chill._

"Hi," the girl said, flashing a smile full of perfect white teeth. "I'm Britney Robinson. What's your name?"

"Natalie Drake," I said.

"Did you just move here?"

_No. Just passing through. Thought I'd enroll in school, _I thought. "Yeah."

"What school did you move from?"

"I was home schooled because my parents and I traveled a lot," I said. So far, I could tell the truth, the whole truth.

"Oh," she said. Clearly I've ignited some curiosity with her. Great. "Why did you travel?"

_Okay, dodging techniques. You know plenty of them. _"My mom is a journalist," I told her. That was half true. "And my dad is an archeologist." Also half true. I was doing good today.

"Oh," she said. "That's … neat..."

She didn't care in the least. I knew that.

The rest of the day drug on forever. Nothing exciting happened. No booby trapped lockers, armed men chasing me, or discovering lost cities of gold. Nothing. The kids were boring and the classes were lame and for the most part, useless. I was nearly dead by the end of the day. I couldn't wait to walk home. In my case, I actually ran because I wanted to get as far away from that demonic prison as possible.

"How was school?" Dad asked as I came into the house.

I gave him a glare.

"That bad huh?" he chuckled.

"Worse. I don't want to go back. Don't make me go back!" I said. "It sucks. If I have to spend another day in that place, I'll lose my freaking mind!"

He sighed. "It can't be that bad."

"Dad! Why can't I still be home schooled? Why did we have to move here anyway?"

"I'm leaving that one for your mom. I think we've talked about this before," he said as my mom came into the room.

"Leave your mom to what?" she asked.

"Why can't I be home schooled? Why can't we keep traveling? I hate that place!"

She sighed, shaking her head. "We've talked about this Natalie. You've spent the last fifteen years gallivanting around the world with me and your dad and we decided that it would be best for you to start going to school like a normal kid, to be around kids your own age."

"But I like gallivanting!" I cried. "I like doing that kind of stuff. I HATE school! I hate the other kids. There's no one worth knowing there. They're dumb and narrow. They don't know anything! They aren't interesting and the classes are even more boring."

"It was one day," she said, sounding a little agitated with the conversation. We'd had it multiple times. "You haven't given it a real go yet."

"I hate it! I don't want to go back!"

"Well, you are Natalie," she said sharply.

I glared and then ran up the stairs and went to my room, taking extra care to slam the door loudly. There were still boxes littering my room that I hadn't unpacked but apparently my mom had come in during the day and made my bed. I kicked off my DC shoes and flopped face first on my bed.

I reached over the edge of my bed and grabbed a small photo album. I really wasn't one for photos and there was a lot that I couldn't talk about to anyone but my family because it could get us killed. That didn't stop me from taking pictures. If only to keep up with the events from my life. It was really crazy.

There were pictures from all different countries like Turkey, Nepal, Brazil, South Africa, and other places. There were a lot from different hospital stays too. My favorite being from when I visited the hospital after a three day stay in a Brazilian work camp. That was the most intense time of my life. It took a bit to figure out an escape but we managed and blew the place up.

I sighed as I flipped through them. I missed being able to go where ever, do whatever and explore. I was always a more hands on learner. I flipped through the rest of it and tossed it a side after a while. I pulled my blanket over my head and laid there for a while.

I heard my door come open.

"Go away," I said, not moving from my spot, thinking that the intruder was my one of my parents. "I don't want to talk to you."

"What did I do?" came the voice of my grandpa, Victor "Goddamn" Sullivan.

I sat bolt up in bed. The reason that my parents had ended up choosing Florida as our permanent home was because the man who raised my dad, my grandpa, lived there. I was always really close to him.

"Grandpa Sully!" I cried.

"Hey kid," he chuckled, hugging me. I hugged him back tightly. "I heard you had a rough day."

I sat back, giving him a surly face. I crossed my arms. "It was worse than worse. I hate that place. I don't want to go back. Ever."

"I tried to tell your parents that it wasn't good for your health for you to be tied down in that kinda place. I sure as hell wasn't ever going to force Nate into going. I don't see why in the hell they're doing it to you. It's like a goddamn prison there," he said.

"I know! The food was better at the prison in Saudi Arabia," I told him. "They may have only fed us well because they needed us to keep our strength up for work but at least they fed us."

He chewed on his stoogie and shook his head. "This shit ain't good for ya. I tried to talk 'em out of it. How about this? You tough it out for me, the rest of the week and if ya still hate it, we'll corner and make them take you out. Okay?"

I smiled. "Thanks Grandpa Sully," I said, hugging him again.

He kissed the top of my head lightly. "Alright. Your mom sent me up here because dinner's ready."

The next week drug on forever. Each day was more painful than the last. I wasn't sure what the worst part was, having to get up at some unholy hour, dealing with obnoxious and idiotic students, listening to holier than thou know it all teachers, or the dull classes and their even duller homework.

There was only one tiny ray of light. His name was Ryder Channelle. He was in my grade and we shared a lot of classes. He was the only one who I could mostly tolerate.

"Hey Natalie," he said on the Friday after I'd started school. "So, what's the verdict? Gonna stay or what?"

"I'm so not staying in this hell," I told him. "We'll just have to hang out outside of prison. I can't take being here anymore."

He chuckled. "I figured that's what you'd say," he said. "Too bad. This place was a little more tolerable with you here. So, you wanna go catch a movie tonight?"

"Sure," I said. "I guess." Then I remembered something. "Before that, can we go to the museum?"

Ryder looked at me skeptically for a moment. "Oh yeah, sure. I forgot that you're into all of that old stuff."

"It's much more than old stuff," I told him, rolling my eyes. "The past shapes our future. Contrary to popular belief, history doesn't repeat itself but it does have remarkable similarities. Besides, they have an exhibit that I'm interested in."

"Whatever," he shrugged. "I don't understand how you can be interested in anything in a museum."

"I don't understand how you can't be," I shot back, a grin playing across my face.

Ryder laughed. "Okay. I'll be by to pick you up at four thirty. Try to make yourself look decent, Nat. Okay?"

"Bite me."

"Sorry. I'm not into cannibalism," he joked. "Later Natalie."

"Later Ryder."

I went home. "I'm home!" I called, dropping my bag by the door.

"Hey Natalie," Dad said. "What's your verdict?"

"No way. I hate it. I'm not staying. We'll talk about it later," I said running up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" he called after me.

I took the stairs two and three at a time. I started digging through my room, tossing things out of boxes. I tripped over a shoe, landing with a loud thud.

"What are you doing up here?" my father laughed from the door way. "Are you in a hurry?"

"Kinda," I answered, returning to my search. "I'm looking for my book. There's an exhibit on Paititi at the museum. Ryder and I are going there to check it out before we go to the movies."

"Ah, Paititi," Dad said. "You're still on about that?"

"Don't give me any crap. You spent twenty years on Sir Francis Drake's trail," I told him. "I think this will give me a hint and get me a little closer to locating it. We'd be swimming in the gold."

"And if I remember correctly, I did find Ubar but all Sully and I ended up with was a handful of coins while we watched it sink into the ground."

"That was poorly played on your part," I chuckled. "Ah ha!" I held the leather bound book up in the air victoriously. I'd had it for a few years. It only contained everything I'd ever discovered about Paititi.

Dad laughed.

I turned to him. "Don't judge me," I pouted.

"I'm not. I'm not," he promised. "I'm glad you're finally excited about something."

"I'd be more excited if I was running through the Amazon," I told him.

"Oh, whatever," he said, rolling his eyes. "Don't let your mom hear that. She'll punch the both of us in the face because I agree with you."

I laughed, pulling a beanie on my head. We weren't allowed to wear them in school and I felt naked without it. Just another reason why I hated that torture chamber. I grabbed my messenger bag and put my book and a pen inside. There were a couple other books in there as well, just in case there was something I found at the museum that was interesting. I had notes and sketches from all the adventures we'd had.

"Oh, your mom told me to remind you to take your pain medications before we do your therapy tonight so you're not up until midnight in pain."

"Okay. I'll take them before I leave."

"Knee hurt?"

"I think it's about to rain," I answered. "But whatever."

"Right." There was a knock. "Ryder?" Dad asked.

"Yep. C'mon," I said.

We went back downstairs. My mom had already answered the door and Ryder was in the kitchen talking with her. His black hair was restyled in his usual tussled look. He wore simple dark blue jeans, a white shirt with red splatters that said 'This is my zombie killing shirt', and red and black checkered Vans.

"So, what do your parents do for a living?" Mom was asking as Dad and I entered.

"They're in the stock market. I don't see them much," he said nonchalant. "They travel a lot and I'm usually home by myself. We have an iffy relationship at best."

"Listen to you," I snorted. "Angsty little rich white boy."

"Shut up," he said, rolling his eyes. "And I'm not 'angsty'. I'm okay with it."

"Let's go, Captain Angst."

We said good bye to my parents and headed to the museum. That Paititi exhibit offered a little information about the first traveler to even hear about it but not much.

"Hey, Natalie," came Ryder's voice. "How much do you know about Pandora's Box?"

I walked over to where he was standing. It was a small display displaying some paintings and ramblings about the mythical box. Then again, I was a myth chaser.

"Not much. I mean, I know the legend of Pandora opening the box and releasing disease and pestilence into the world. The only thing that was left was hope because the moron shut the box too soon."

"Do think it was real?" he asked, studying it.

I pulled out one of my notebooks and started taking notes. "It could be. It might have been exaggerated though the years and people back then didn't understand as much as we did," I told him. "Such as, giving angels wings. No where in the Bible does it mention angels having wings. That's completely of human invention to explain how they flew. It's been consistent with all religions who believe in flying beings."

"Good thing they didn't invent superman."

"He's an alien," I said, frowning at the glass. Something in the manuscripts caught my eye. It was probably a total coincidence that they were placed beside the Pandora's Box thing but it snapped a bunch of neurons in my brain. I scribbled down some more notes.

"Natalie Drake!" Ryder called. Apparently he'd been yelling at me fore a while.

I was jolted from my intense sketching and looked back at him. "What?" I half snarled.

"If we don't hurry, we're gonna be late for the movie," Ryder said. "Let's go!"

"Crap. Right. Coming," I called back, stuffing my notebook back in my bag and following after him.

On our way out, I bumped into some uppity man and his entourage of bodyguards. He had apparently been waiting a while to get to the exhibit and his solid brick friend caused me to trip and jack up my old knee injury. The main man, mid to late forties, average build, average height, nothing particularly noticeable about him unless you count the really fancy custom made Italian suit he wore, looked down at me. He didn't look irritated or insulted. Rather, he looked at me curiously and possessively.

I ignored the weirdness and went after Ryder.

_Why in the hell would those kind of guys be interested in something like Pandora's Box? There has to be pieces missing. Something along the line. They have to believe it's real. And I have all the start information put together before they do. I could get a head start on them. For some reason, I don't think that they're looking to get the little hope angel out. _

**I know it was long and kinda went no where but I wanted to introduce the characters and kinda set up the scene. Paititi is an actual place. Google it. As for Pandora's Box, that was a real legend but I'm going to make it a real object. I hope everyone enjoys.**

**Thanks for reading and once again, you're reviews are greatly appreciated and I do respond to as many of them as I can!**


	2. Chapter 2: Motivation

**Okay, time for chapter two! Yay! I'm not sure how much more action will be in this chapter but I'll try to squeeze something in. Hopefully.**

**All reviews are appreciated!**

"Pandora's Box?" Dad questioned, leaning over my shoulder, peering curiously at the computer screen. "What?"

I looked up at him. It'd been a few days since Ryder and I had first saw the exhibit at the museum. It was a Monday so he had school. My grandpa and I had managed to convince my parent to at least let me continue homeschooling. It was very nice. That's how I ended up laying on the floor researching Pandora's Box.

"Yeah. There was an exhibit for it at the museum. It was placed next to something and it got me curious," I told him.

"Ah," he said. "That was pretty clearly a legend. What have you found out?"

"Well," I told him, studying the notes that I'd wrote down. "There was a journal next to the box exhibit from an expedition to Greece in 1839 by a French explorer named Adrian Claude. His entries were pretty consistent until he actually reached Sparta, Greece. Then, it just stops. When he picked back up, it was almost a year and a half later. His notes were … different. Like he went crazy. He talked about the curse of the vase. Over half his crew was dead. They almost didn't make it home."

"And you think it was because of Pandora's _Box_?" he said, emphasizing the box.

"See, that's the misconception. It wasn't actually a box," I said, flipping a few pages over in my book. "When the story of Pandora was written the term used to describe the Greek word _pithos. _It was like a jar or vase. Sometimes, they were big enough for a small person to fit inside. Erasmus of Rotterdam translated Hesiod's original tale of Pandora into Latin. When he did he took _pithos _as the Greek word _pyxis, _which means box. The title's stuck ever since. I think that's what really messes everyone up."

"Ah," Dad said. "So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that this box might be real. Not in the sense that the little angel of hope is gonna escape or anything but, it might be a biological weapon of some sort. That would certainly explain why it went missing and no one ever found it."

"How?"

"Think about it. If you find a vase with a sealed top, the first thing you want to do is open it if you don't know what it was. Now, if after you open it, half of your crew drops dead and the rest get severely sick, you're going to blame this vase. There is no way I'm taking something like that back with me on a three month boat ride so it can kill the rest of the crew. I'm going to leave it for the next sorry sucker to find it," I explained.

Dad grinned and kissed the top of my head. "I knew you were my child," he stated happily.

"Duh," I said rolling my eyes, beginning to go back to my research. "Wait. There was debate about this?"

Dad laughed.

"No," Mom said, entering the room. "All debate about your genetics went out the door when you played stowaway at six years old so you could help daddy raid the temples in Indonesia."

I laughed, recalled my first great adventure. "I told you I wanted to go," I said, nonchalant. "I'm definitely a Drake."

"That's for sure."

I chewed the end of my pencil thoughtfully.

"Now what are you thinking about?" Dad asked.

I frowned. "Just … This is Greek stuff, right? So, just saying that the box is real, that probably means that it was passed down through ages of Greek royalty. The problem is that everyone back then was so jacked up. Power changed hands as many times as they've changed actors for Batman."

"Nice reference kid. Points," Grandpa Sully said walking in. "What are you onto?"

"Pandora's Box," I said.

"But Natalie, why would you even want to find it?" Dad asked. "Are you going to start a biological war?"

That was a good question. Why was I so into the thought of finding the box? It wasn't going to do me any good. "Uh. I can't leave the country anyway. It's not like I'm going to actually go after it," I said, shaking my head. "Just a hobby for a little while. That's all."

"Oh really?" He gave me a look.

"Really," I said, closing the laptop and my notebook. I sat up. "Anyway, I told Ryder I'd meet him after school. We're going skate boarding."

"Okay. Have fun."

I grabbed my skateboard from beside the door, stuffed my feet into some shoes and left. I rolled down the street toward the museum. I wanted to go look at the Pandora exhibit again. Ryder was waiting with his skateboard.

"What's up Natalie?" he asked.

"Not much. Let's run back up there and check out that Pandora's Box exhibit thing. I want a better look at that journal beside it."

"Okay."

We went back inside and to the exhibit. I studied the journal more closely. There was a section that I hadn't noticed before. It said:

_'Sir Patrick Callis was the last person who went near this section of Greece. He and some of his crew were stricken with a disease we have yet to learn the name of. Thankfully, his log was brought back by the survivors of his crew. He mention a vase made of the richest jewels with the most intricate designs. Why his crew didn't bring the object back is unknown to me.'_

I stared at the entry and scribbled the name Patrick Callis down in my notebook. I heard Ryder grunt and I whipped around to see what the problem was. Someone had forced him down to his knees, covered his mouth with a gloved hand and pressed a gun to his head.

There were about six body guard guys and then the man that I'd seen when we'd first come to the museum.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"The one with a gun to your friend's head," the man stated flatly. "I am Sacha Nicolaides. Consider me, your new best friend."

"Probably not going to happen," I smirked. "Let him go and we can pretend this never happened."

"See, that's not going to happen either, little Drake," he said, sounding bemused. "I think you know how to find something that I want."

I glanced back at the exhibit. "You want Pandora's Box."

"Exactly. I knew you were a bright girl."

"What makes you think that I can find it? What makes you think I even believe in it?"

"Because you're here and you are the child of Nathan Drake. Ever since that day I saw you here looking at the museum I knew that you were already working out where to find it."

"I'm still trying to process if it's actually real!" I snapped. "How in the holy hell am I supposed to find it?"

"You already know where to start looking for it, yes?"

"Um, Greece? That's a big area. Go look for yourself. Let him go. I can't help you."

Sacha nodded to one of his men. The man pulled a gun and I thought he was going to shoot me or Ryder. Instead, he slammed it across my face, sending me to the ground. Ryder cried out in shock and tears sprang in my eyes out of reaction. My jaw was throbbing and hot, I could feel it swelling up and bruising.

"Great," I scoffed, holding my jaw in my hand moving it around making sure it wasn't broken. "I always wanted Smith and Wesson imprinted on my face."

Sacha grabbed me by the shirt. "Listen to me you little twit," he snarled. "You're going to find me this box, understand? If you don't," He snapped his fingers. His men began using Ryder as a punching bag. I had to hand it to him, he tried to fight back but he was no match for them.

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" I yelled, struggling against Sacha's grip. "Stop!"

Sacha forced me to face him. "If you don't agree to find the box for me, I'll make him and your little family, disappear. I'll give you a couple days to decide what you want to do." He released me and he and his boys left.

I scrambled over to Ryder. "How bad is it?" I asked, scanning him over.

"I'm okay. Nothing broken I think..." he said, sitting up. His mouth and nose was bleeding. He had dirty foot prints all over him and bruises already forming. "Who was that guy? What was his problem?"

"There's a lot about me that I haven't been totally honest with you about," I said. "But that will have to wait until later. C'mon. We have to get back to my house."

"Yeah. I guess crazy Greek guys threatening our lives totally takes out the skate park plan, huh?" he said.

I pulled him to his feet. "You're taking this surprisingly well."

"There's not much time to meltdown right now," he said.

We skated as fast as we could to my house. I ran inside.

"DAD! MOM!" I yelled urgently.

"Natalie?" Dad cried, sounding panicked. "What happened? Oh my god, what happened to you too? Elena, get the first aid kit. Sully!"

"Goddamn kid," Grandpa said. "Did you crash your skateboard?"

"No. We never made it to the skate park," I panted as Dad forced the both of us into chairs at the kitchen table.

"What happened?" he asked, handing me an ice pack.

Mom came in and got to work on Ryder.

"Is that the Smith and Wesson logo on your face?" Dad asked, studying the bruise.

"Yes," I said, pressing the ice pack back on it. I gave them a play by play of what had happened. "I have to find that box."

"How'd this guy even know you're Nate's kid, huh?" Sully asked. "I sure as hell never heard of him before. You, Nate?"

"No. Doesn't ring any bells," Dad said.

"I think it might be my fault," Ryder said from around the reg my mom had pressed to his face. "Remember, he was there the first time we went to the museum. You weren't paying attention to me so I yelled Natalie Drake really loud. Then you bumped into one of his bodyguards … that's how he learned your face."

"Crap," I groaned. "You're right but we didn't know. It was just an accident. Don't blame yourself, Ryder. You didn't know any better."

"Yeah, that leads me to ask, just who are you people?"

**And so, you've met our bad guy. Sacha. His name is actually Greek, I looked it up. It means 'defender of men' and I liked the irony so I went with it.**

**As for the facts that Natalie spouted off to Nathan in the beginning about the expedition to Greece is completely made up. As is Sir Patrick Callis's trip. The other part about the origin and all that jazz is 100% true though. (I use Wiki for all my facts and then just make up the rest)**

**Looks like Ryder's finally asking the right question. Just who in the hell are the Drakes? I tried to set it up a little more.**

**Thank you for reading! Please Review!**


	3. Chapter 3: Til We Get Caught

**On to chapter three. Man I'm on a roll! I am feeling rather proud of myself about it.**

**I hope everyone has been enjoying the story so far. All reviews are appreciated greatly.**

I looked at Ryder. "Well, that's a great question," I said. "When I told you that my dad was an archeologist … that was only half of the truth. Think Indiana Jones meets Tomb Raider, that's kinda how it is."

"You just compared me to a rich British woman," Dad sighed, shaking his head. "No respect."

"So, you're thieves?"

"Ouch. No. Can't steal what doesn't belong to anyone," I told him. "We're myth chasers. Researchers."

"Is your mom really a journalist?"

"That part is true," Mom said. "I am a journalist. I started out as a TV show host and became a journalist. That's how I met Nate and Sully. I've helped with more than a few of their exploits."

"Exploits?" Dad asked, giving her a grin.

"Listen, Ryder," I said. "I know this probably sounds crazy but this is how it is. I was home schooled because my family was traveling all over, hunting down treasures and lost cities of gold. We won't let this guy hurt you."

Ryder nodded. "I want to help."

"I don't see-"

"I can help! I'll help you research or something. I'm good with maps. I can do something to help. I'm not a damsel in distress. I'm not just going to wait around while you figure this out by yourself. That's not how I work."

"Fine. You can help. Somehow," I told him. "Mom, break out your old contact book. See if you can figure out who this Sacha guy is."

"I'm way ahead of you, Natalie," Mom said heading to her room.

"Grandpa Sully, do you think that you could try to figure out where these guys went on their trips to Greece?"

"I can sure as hell try," he said, patting my head. "I'm getting to goddamned old for this."

"Never," I told him. "Dad, me and you have a lot of research to do."

Two days with little to no sleep, no breaks, my eyes felt like they were bleeding. It took all of us working at a constant rate to sort through all the bull crap. Ryder and Grandpa Sully charted out where they thought the box was.

"Somewhere in here, according to the information that Sir Patrick left us together with what Claude had wrote," Ryder said. "In the abandoned ruins of Sparta."

"Sparta," I repeated. "I guess that makes sense."

"How?" Ryder asked.

"Because, from what my Dad and I found, the last account of the box's contents being released is the battle of Troy."

"Troy, like the movie with Orlando Bloom and Brad Pitt?"

"I was thinking more like the Iliad," I said flatly. "According to the story, Agamemnon and his army won part of the battle because of divine intervention from the gods. Except, it wasn't the gods. Agamemnon, being Greek royalty, had the box. They probably didn't understand what it did exactly but they knew if you opened it, it did some damage. Boom, there's a weakened force and it's no problem to take out the rest of them."

"Okay, then what happened?"

"When Agamemnon sailed home after it was all over, he was murdered by his wife Clytemnestra. Menelaus, his brother, took the box back to Sparta where he was in charge at the time. He buried the vase because he blamed his brother's murder on it rather than the fact that Clytemnestra was just a whore. In some accounts it was her lover that killed ol' Aggie and in others it was Clytemnestra and her boy toy."

"Ah," he said. "But where did he bury it? I thought they started digging in Sparta years ago."

"That's the thing," I told him, giving him a serious look. "I don't know. I'm hoping that as long as I can give Sacha an idea of where it is, a specific city to search in, we're in the clear. All that will be left is getting to Greece and finding it before he does."

"That sounds simple enough. What did Sir Patrick leave us with?"

"Not much more than what Claude had left in his journal except that, Sir Patrick never made it back to England. What was left of the crew took the journal and went home after he died, giving him a burial at sea. All he noted about where they found it was that it was a miracle that they discovered the hideaway and that it was booby-trapped. They almost didn't get it back out. He described the entrance like entering the very pits of Hades."

"Wow. Lucky us. We get to go to hell."

"You're not coming Ryder," I said. "You'll be hurt."

"Oh, I'm going. I didn't just spend two days mapping this out for nothing."

"It wasn't for nothing."

"I'm going."

"No-"

"Okay Natalie," Mom said walking in, holding her cell phone. "That was Marcus. He said that Sacha is an arms dealer. Pretty dirty guy."

"You think he's working for someone else?" I asked.

"Sacha doesn't work for people like you're thinking. He's not necessarily hired by people or organizations. He gets the items that might interest buyers and they go to him. Occasionally he is hired to find special weapons but I think this one is all him. I guess the title of arms dealer isn't enough."

"Yeah, evil overlord of the universe is much better."

"What if he's not working for someone – yet?" Ryder asked.

"Huh?" Mom questioned.

"I mean, what if he heard that this might be real. Started doing his own research and then he found Natalie. Now, he's making Natalie find it for him. Once he gets it, he'll just sell it to the highest bidder on the terms that he be spared," Ryder explained. "I mean, it makes sense. This Sacha guys all about the paycheck. I know how people like him work. All about the Benjamins."

"Ah. Even better," I said sounding amazed. "He's going to sell it to some power mad psycho."

"That just means we have to find it first," Dad said.

"First, I have to go meet Sacha," I said. "To the museum."

"You can't go alone," Grandpa Sully said.

"I can't take you or Dad or Mom," I told him. "He'll panic right then and someone's bound to be hurt. No, I'll just go alone."

"I can go," Ryder said.

"Ry-"

"Can you use a gun, kid?" Grandpa interrupted.

"Yeah. Only thing my dad and I have in common. We like guns," he said.

"Then congratulations, you've just been drafted," he said.

Dad handed Ryder a hand gun. Ryder inspected. "Smith and Wesson Sigma 9mm semi-auto. Not bad," he said.

"You do know your guns," Dad commented.

"I take pride in it. My father had quite a collection at our home but he had to move them once he started traveling more for work. He couldn't leave me alone with them since I'm under age. He's a hunter and a gun fan, like me."

"Yeah?"

Ryder nodded.

"This is my baby," I told him, showing him my gun.

"Browning 9X19mm Hi-power semi-auto. Where did you come across this?"

"Belgium two years ago," I told him, tucking it in the back of my jeans. I pulled my shirt over it. "I took it off some guy and I liked how it shot so I kept it."

Ryder tucked his away as well.

"Be careful," Dad said. "No matter what happens in there, get out as fast as you can and get here in one piece okay?"

"No problem Dad," I told him, giving him a grin. "I'm a Drake."

"That's what concerns me," he chuckled.

"Be careful," Mom said.

"It'll be fine. C'mon Ryder."

We left. As we walked to the museum, I looked over at him. "You think you're ready for this?" I asked. "It's not too late to change your mind."

"No, I'm in this for the long haul. I kinda helped get you into this mess," he said. We stopped at the foot of the stairs to the building.

I looked up at it and then back at him. "What are you thinking?"

"I want tacos for lunch," he said. "We should stop by Taco Bell on our way back."

I snorted. "Really?" I started up the stairs, grinning, my hands deep in the pockets of my hoodie. "Well, let's get this over with and then get you tacos. I wonder if we have ketchup at home."

"Ketchup?" Ryder questioned following me.

"I put them on my tacos."

"You're weird."

"You're just now noticing?"

It seemed like we waited forever at the Pandora's Box exhibit before Sacha and his entourage showed up.

"Natalie," he greeted me warmly, his arms open like he thought I was going to hug him or something.

I gave him a cold glare as a response. "It's in Sparta," I told him.

"Anything more specific?"

"Look hard. They don't say exactly where its at. It's just in Sparta. That's all I know. There's your information. We'll be leaving now."

"Ah. I don't think so," he said. "How do I know this is true information and you're not just sending me on a wild chase so you can get the box for yourself?"

"What in the hell would I want with something like that?" I snapped. "What you do with your life is your own business. You wanted information and I gave you what I know. That was the deal. I tell you where it's at and you leave me and my family and friends alone."

I glanced around. He had us out gunned easily, even if we brought Dad, Mom, and Grandpa Sully. Something wasn't right.

"The deal has been changed," he said formally. "I'm going to have you _show _me where the box is."

"Ryder!" I barked, pulling my gun.

The guys advanced toward us. I shot one in the knee. Ryder shot a few. The guards pulled their guns and started firing. They weren't trying to kill us of course. That would be counterproductive. I dived behind a display. I returned a little fire, trying to keep them back.

Suddenly, Ryder was beside me. He grabbed my wrist and jerked me up. He shot a few times and I heard bodies drop.

"Ry-"

"Your dad said get back. They'll take us for sure if we play shoot out!" he said running to the door, me in tow.

We ran out of the museum, dodging the security guards, the sounds of sirens giving us background music to our sprint. We skidded around a corner down and alley. We slowed to a jog for a moment to catch our breath.

"You're not shot are you?" Ryder asked.

"No. You?" I asked.

"Not that I feel," he said. "Your bleeding."

I could feel the blood trickling down my cheek. "It's from the glass they busted out of the displays. It cut me. It's not too serious. Let's go. We need to hurry. Hopefully the cops will delay him for a while."

"Yeah. So, I guess I'm not getting any tacos?"

"No. Tacos are out. Maybe once we get back from Greece."

"Sounds like a plan."

**Nothing ever goes as planned. I hoped I made Ryder seem a little more useful this chapter. He's really been just bleh for the first couple of chapters but I'm setting it up for later adventures – should things work out.**

**Anyway, again, a lot of this is total BS but the part about Agamemnon's wife killing him is true and Menelaus was actually in charge of Sparta at one point. I looked up the information about the guns on Wiki. I'm not a gun aficionado or anything but I wanted Ryder to be one for some reason.**

**Thank you to my faithful reviewer, There She Goes and Shes Comin! Your reviews are very helpful!**


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